


danger night

by belovedmuerto



Series: Three's Company [3]
Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Black mood, Cuddles, Multi, Other, Threesome
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-10-09
Updated: 2013-10-09
Packaged: 2017-12-28 22:30:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 994
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/997669
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/belovedmuerto/pseuds/belovedmuerto
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>He looks at the text for a moment before shutting his phone, thankful that those words mean something different when he sends them to Greg than they do/did when Mycroft sends them to him.</p>
            </blockquote>





	danger night

**Author's Note:**

> I don't think, in this instance, Sherlock is truly in a depression, but I suppose this may be triggering because it's similar. Please think through reading this if it might cause you harm.
> 
> As usual, this hasn't been beta'd, and in fact was only finished about ten minutes ago. So hopefully it's good and mostly free of terrible errors on my part.

John looks across the flat at Sherlock, curled on the couch with his back to the room, and pulls out his phone to text Greg.

 _Danger Night_

He looks at the text for a moment before shutting his phone, thankful that those words mean something different when he sends them to Greg than they do/did when Mycroft sends them to him.

Greg’s reply only takes a few moments to appear. _How bad?_

_Pretty bad. Can you come?_

_I’ll be a little while yet. Buried under paperwork._

John sighs. _All right. Get here when you can. We need you._

 _Will do._

(They don’t sign their texts to each other, the way Sherlock sometimes still does. They don’t send each other emoticons or little hearts or anything like that. Still, John knows they’re there, in spirit. Just like Greg does.)

\----

He manages to coax Sherlock off the couch and into the shower, but only because he doesn’t give Sherlock much chance to argue and simply steers him into the bathroom and then the shower, following right behind, as always. This isn’t the worst mood John has ever seen Sherlock in, but it’s edging towards that. He’s hoping that between himself and Greg, they can head it off. Or at least keep it from getting worse. If Sherlock goes nuclear, they’ll all suffer for it and through it, for who knows how long.

Sherlock stands under the spray of the shower, pliant and quiet in a way he almost never is, watching John with no light in his eyes. It makes John worried and sad, but he does his best to keep that off his face, to be patient and kind. That is what Sherlock needs right now. The reminder that he is loved, no matter what, might help perhaps a little bit.

John washes his hair and his body, all gentle hands and soft touches. He massages Sherlock’s scalp with his ridiculously posh conditioner, and maneuvers Sherlock out of the way when he’s finished so he can wash himself, using all of Sherlock’s products on himself. 

\----

Sherlock remains pliant after the shower, lets himself be dried with a fluffy towel and dressed in clean vest and pyjama bottoms and bundled into bed, covered with blankets against the cool air of the flat. It feels nice, cool against his skin, soothing instead of overwhelming, warming with his body heat slowly. He watches passively as John dresses himself, also in clean pyjamas, then grabs another set of clean clothes and puts them in the bathroom. He comes back after a few minutes longer than that task alone could have warranted, but Sherlock doesn’t ask.

John looks down at him for a moment, and smiles softly. “I’m going to get some water.”

Sherlock nods in acknowledgement, and John smiles that he responded.

\----

John gets two glasses of water and checks his phone. Greg has texted him back.

_All right, that doesn’t seem too difficult a request._

He texts back, _i’ll explain later_. Then he takes the water and his phone back into the bedroom and climbs into bed with Sherlock, pulling him close and holding him.

“You smell like me,” Sherlock murmurs after a few minutes, sounding vaguely surprised.

“I used all your ridiculous shower products, didn’t I?”

Sherlock almost manages to smile at him. “You did that on purpose.”

\----

Sherlock rouses a little bit when he hears the shower turn on. John is still in front of him, warm against his body, breath deep and even, arms protective around him.

 _Greg_ , he thinks, his brain moving slowly. _Why is he showering?_

John shifts against him, hums a little. His fingers find their way into Sherlock’s hair and card through it. Sherlock tucks his head down under John’s chin, a little closer. This is simple. This is nice. 

Greg comes out of the bathroom a few minutes later, trailing steam behind him, scrubbing at his short, grey hair with a towel. He stops beside the bed and smiles down at both of them. 

John stirs and shifts a little bit, again, enough to turn his head and look up at Greg. “Get in here,” he murmurs. 

Greg complies without a word, tossing the towel back into the bathroom and skirting around the bed, climbing in behind Sherlock. He doesn’t speak, which is nice. 

No one speaks. 

Greg shifts in the bed, closer and closer until he’s pressed against Sherlock’s back. He adjusts the blankets over himself, slips his arm around Sherlock, slips his hand under Sherlock’s vest and rests it possessively against his stomach, his thumb moving in soothing circles against the skin of Sherlock’s abdomen. 

Sherlock turns his head a little, and Greg presses a soft kiss to the hinge of his jaw, then nuzzles against the back of his neck when Sherlock turns back to facing John. He noses into Sherlock’s hair and stays there.

Greg used Sherlock’s bath products too. And he’s wearing the clean clothes that John had left for him.

 _Oh._

It’s elegant, really. Clever of John, surprisingly so. Both of them using Sherlock’s product, all of them wearing clean clothes. There’s no competing scents to disturb Sherlock’s mind, to send him into a frenzy, to keep his thoughts whirling. 

John is often clever in surprising ways, ways that Sherlock will never grow tired of. And Greg is solid and warm and steady, clever in his own way, and _always_ there, though Sherlock has never been one to seek him out when he’s fallen into this miasma. John knows, though, and Greg had come as soon as he was asked.

There are simply two bodies pressed against him, front and back. Arms around him, holding him close, making him feel surrounded and safe. People he cares about, showing him that they care about him too.

“Thank you,” he murmurs, voice soft into John’s neck. He feels the answering squeeze of their arms around him, the silent ‘you’re welcome’, and slowly slips into sleep.


End file.
